Shotgun Vows by Teresa Southwick Read Free Book Online

bad.
    And it didn’t much matter. If they got this show on the road pronto, maybe he could get in a couple of hours at the office later.
    â€œSo where do we start?” he asked.
    â€œHow about introductions.” She looked around at the kids and her gaze rested on the small redheaded girl with cornflower-blue eyes. “Ladies first. Katie Mansfield, meet Dawson Prescott.”
    He held his hand out and the girl, who looked about eleven years old, put hers into his palm, squeezing with a surprising strength. “Miss Mansfield, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    â€œAnd this motley macho male crew are Nate Howe, Juan Castaneda, and Kevin Dolan.” She pointed to a tall, skinny blonde, then a husky dark-haired, black-eyed boy and a chubby guy with unruly brown hair. The boys appeared to be about the same age as Katie.
    One by one, they shook hands with Dawson. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.
    â€œNow we need to find you just the right mounts,” Mattie said. “C’mon, mates.”
    She lead the way toward the barn, and Dawson’s gaze was pulled to the feminine grace of her walk. The hem of her plaid shirt hitched up a notch, and he got a better look at her curvy rear end. He couldn’t help wondering if she had a small waist and shapely hips to go with those dynamite legs. All the Matilda images he’d been fighting against—legs wrapped around his waist, twisted sheets and bodies entwined—flooded his consciousness with a vengeance.
    All those thoughts were at odds with her fresh-scrubbed face and the long blond braid hanging down her back. She was just a kid. And he was her chaperone—not her Casanova. He was abruptly drawn back to the present by a persistent tugging.
    â€œDon’t you just love her accent?” Katie asked Dawson. She took his hand and tugged him forward.
    â€œI do,” he answered. Oddly enough, he meant it.
    Inside the barn, Mattie walked down the hay-strewn aisle between stalls. She looked from side to side, tapping her lips thoughtfully. Stopping beside one, she said, “Juan, this one is for you. His name is Buck.” She continued on until she came to a black, beige, and white pinto. “Katie, this is Buttercup. She has a disposition as sweet as yours.”
    Dawson watched her pick out two more mounts for Kevin and Nate. Then she grabbed a bridle, handed it to him, and said, “Mr. Prescott is going to demonstrate bridling a horse.”
    She tapped her lip again. “He’ll show you on Buttercup. She’s very patient, but—” she gave the kids a serious look “—you must be very gentle with the animals. Treat them the way you would like to be treated. You don’t like it if someone punches or slaps you. Right?”
    Kevin nodded. “Juan and Nate do that to each other all the time when we line up at school.”
    Mattie glanced at the two who looked guilty. “But you’re not going to do that now. Are you, guys?”
    â€œNo,” they said in unison.
    She looked at him. “Mr. Prescott, you’re on.”
    â€œDawson.” He looked at the kids. “It’s all right to call me by my first name.”
    Mattie met his gaze. “He thinks Mr. Prescott makes him sound old,” she said conspiratorially to the kids.
    â€œHe is old,” Nate said.
    â€œDo you think so?” she said, eyeing Dawson critically. “I guess you just have to get to know him. He doesn’t look so ancient to me.”
    Dawson gritted his teeth. He had no problem being gentle with Buttercup, but there was a certain smart-mouthed female who could use a dressing-down. He wasn’t ancient. But the part of him that disconnected from his wounded ego acknowledged that the kid was right. Compared to Mattie, he was old.
    He congratulated himself on controlling his temper, while Mattie led the way as they walked back to the multicolored Buttercup’s stall. When